About Us

We are the authors Sierra Wolfe, Tierney O'Malley, Wendy Ely, Alisha Paige, Mark Alders, Kate Davison, and Gracen Miller. Welcome to our blog. We hope to entertain and inform you. This is where we will share our writing journeys and life experiences, and maybe, share a bit of wisdom we pick up along the way. We hope you enjoy it!

About Gracen

Gracen is a hopeless daydreamer masquerading as a "normal" person in southern society. When not writing, she's a full-time basketball/football/guitar mom for her two sons and a devoted wife to her real-life hero-husband. She's addicted to writing, paranormal romance novels and movies, Alabama football and coffee…addictions are not necessarily in order of priority. She is convinced coffee is nectar from the gods and blending coffee and writing together generates the perfect creative merger. Many of her creative worlds are spawned from coffee highs. To learn more about Gracen or to leave her a comment, visit her website at www.gracenmiller.com.

Gracen's Books

About Kate

I like to read and write just about anything. But I am a sucker for a Happily-Ever-After. I need to know characters ride off into the sunset and all is right in their world. That's why I chose romance instead of another category. HEA's aren't always promised in other genres, though I do read them too.
Most of the time you'll find me at the keyboard, moving between the 5 projects I tackle at a time.

Kate's Books

About Alisha

I write paranormal, magic realism, fantasy, erotic and vintage romance. I live in a haunted house built in the 50s and love to drink red wine and eat dark chocolate while sitting in the swing out back. I love to watch my children play in the sandbox while my dogs wrestle on the grass. Does life get any better? It's the simple things in life I cherish.

Alisha's Books

About Wendy

Writing is an adventure I started at a young age but never took it serious until last year. My focus is on contemporary romance and have two books coming out later this year. Besides writing, I run a childcare, attend college, and am a single mom. Life isn't boring for me!

Followers

Sunday, February 28, 2010

Well, this is my last day of winter vacation. Goodbye to 9 days and nights off in which I got to completely veg out in my office or in front of the television watching the Winter Olympics and writing on my many stories. With two must-have-them-done-asap books in my lap, I've been pushing as much as I can to finish them during this breif respite from my real life. Though my desktop computer has almost given up the ghost completely, I trudge on with my trusty laptop. The desktop still works for short periods of time, but with the high-powered fan going on and off constantly, I have no idea when it will finally blow the mother board. So, I've shuffled all the really super important files to flash drives in preparation. It's soooo nice to have that warning. I've not been that lucky in the past.

Since I haven't spoke to you friends since last Sunday, I'll let you in on a little news I got last Monday. I got a letter from the editor at HQN/Silhouette who I subbed my partial to afer RWA Nationals this past summer. She requested to see the full of the book. I consider this a big step forward in my career. And while it is far from "the call" and I still have several more hurdles to jump, it is the furthest I've ever gotten while subbing to them. It's a small win for me. To that end, I'm being very careful about the book and going over it with a fine-toothed comb from beginning to end, making lots of notes about where I can cut, shuffle, add and otherwise tighten. I feel this is my one shot to land what might end up being a lucrative contract. HQN/Silhouette tend to think in terms of series and sequels - much like I do. I've had several of their authors tell me, if you get contracted by them, they generally want their authors to produce up to four books a year for them. No sweat. I can do that. Hell, I'm doing that now, though the books, I'm putting out are a lot longer.

In other writing news, I'm still working hard on the book for Loose-ID. I'll probably finish that one in the coming weeks. Yay!!! And will get it out the door to the editor for her read through. I'll also be finishing the sequel to High Octane, titled, Water Mark and the sequel to my LSB release, titled Intimate Weapons. In the periphery I'm trying to finish my sequel to my vampire novel, The Host: Shadows. The Host: Bloodlust has a secondary m/m romance, the first one I've written and didn't really intend to go there with this book, but the characters just kind of pushed me into it. But I'm so protective and motherly to the one character, I just have to see him get a happy ending. So, I'll let him. Well, kind of. He's going to have to walk through fire for it. Literally.

There is also a freebie I have up at the Samhellion. It's the third in my Jersey Devil babies story. This one a Valentine themed. It's also pretty damn funny. Cute. It's titled Devilish Hearts by MK Mancos. If you go there, you might have to scroll down to find it on the blog page since it came out on the 25th and there have been other blogs since then.

If it looks like I only wrote on my vacation, that pretty much sums it up. However, I did go on a hike with the hubby and dog through the woods by our house. Over hill and dale and across a bridge that was only two old metal railroad tracks and some wood that had rotted and fallen into the river years ago. Though it was only about 4-6 feet down to the river from the bridge, I completely froze and stood staring down at the rushing water under my feet. (I have a horrible fear of heights) In this case, I just kept thinking, I'm going to slip and fall in. And while I probably wouldn't have hurt myself in the process, the water had to be absolutely freezing. See, I'm very unsteady on my feet and will topple over just walking across the floor. So, standing there on the bridge, the only thing I could think was that my little feet were going to go one way and I was going to go the other and we'd both end up in the frigid water. - Luckily, I made it across with a shuffle step both coming and going and am happy to report there was no slippage. I really don't think I would have been half as worried had it been 90 degrees and the height of summer. Then I'd probably have been more than happy to fall in.

Then came the snowstorm that wouldn't end. It snowed here from Wednesday to Sat morning. My hubby didn't get to work until Sat. They closed his store both Thurs. and Fri. Which was good, because going in would have been so treacherous, even with the 4 x 4. And I just kept looking out of the window and singing, "I'm so glad I'm off." Because when you work in healthcare, you are required to report to work no matter the weather conditions. There are still patients to see and people who need care. It doesn't stop. But what a relief I didn't have to drive in that mess to go in. I should probably add here, that being off for a snowstorm of that size was the first time I didn't have to report to work during that kind of horrible condition in the 17 years I've worked there. There have been smaller ones I've been off for, but not a major blizzard. Just saying. I couldn't have timed this vacation better.

And so, bye bye vacation. I've had a grand time enjoying you and all you had to offer me. My next long stretch will only be 6 nights off, but that's coming week after next. Yummy. I'm going to be able to finish both books and get them out the door. (Victory dances commences.)

Saturday, February 27, 2010

There is only one week left to get in on my Wicked Giveaway! There's still time to enter. I'll announce the winner next Saturday! If you missed the rules the first time around, here they are again:

(oh...and GOOD LUCK to all the entrants...make sure you tell ALL your friends!!)

~~~~~

Anyone interested in a late Christmas gift? Need to recharge from the holidays with a good book? Well, I’m giving away a $10 Barnes and Noble Gift Card. There are three ways to enter the contest (or enter all three ways, upping your chance of wining) and please leave a comment which way you entered:

1. Follow this blog and you'll be entered in this contest once.

2. If you’ve already read my book Elfin Blood, e-mail me at gracen.miller@yahoo.com with CONTEST in the subject line and answer the following question:

What tattoo is on Julija’s hand?

(Your name will be entered in the contest 5 times.)

3. Purchase a copy of my book, Elfin Blood, and send me a copy of the receipt at gracen.miller@yahoo.com with CONTEST in the subject line. There are several buy links where Elfin Blood can be found, depending upon your haunt…Here are several of them (click on the name to be directed to the link):

To gain additional entries: You can gain 5 additional entries to the contest by reposting this contest and tell me where the link was reposted.

Contest runs until March 5, 2010. Good luck to all entrants!

~~~~~

Below are the first three chapters of Elfin Blood and reviews from other readers and/or reviewers:

G.R. Bretz reviewed Elfin Blood and I love this comment by him: “Stopping in the middle of this story would have been as feasible as stopping in the middle of sex.” To read the complete review, go here.

Sheila Deeth reviewed Elfin Blood and said: “Gracen Miller creates an interesting cast of characters in Elfin Blood, and fills their world with delightfully intriguingsurprises. Very nicely done Gracen, and definitely not your granny’s or granddaughter’s romance.” To read the complete review click here and scroll down to the first comment.

Deb at Dark Diva Reviews reviewed Elfin Blood, gave it 5 Delightful Divas and a Recommended Read, and said: “Elfin Blood is pure Magic! It is a story worth reading over and over again.” To read the complete review, go here.

Julija squinted against the sun’s harsh rays. Not even her darkly tinted sunglasses entirely cut the glare. The frames slid down her sweat-slick nose. She pushed them back up and looked around, her impatience rising. For the fifth time in as many minutes, she glanced at her watch. Two minutes left. She resettled her gaze on the odd-looking house across the street.

The structure looked more like a fortress than an actual home and gave her the creeps. It was too gothic, too dark, and contrary to her light-imbued life.

Made from slate, the house reached high into the sky like a castle with its domed ceilings. Gargoyles carved from stone rested above the windows, as if offering protection from demonic entities. With a vampire in residence, perhaps they did.

She shuddered to think of it as a home, but the richest, most powerful man in the city of Veil—Landau Jamieson the IV or V or something along that order—considered it such. The man was the sole reason she stood here, or rather the vampire disguised as a man was the sole reason. Ironically the city’s residents considered him royalty. Hell, more like Batman of Gotham in these parts.

Priceless. Absolutely priceless. For no other purpose other than to make herself feel good, Julija rolled her eyes beneath the thick shades.

The vampire had stolen the Ivory Elfin Book of Lore. The ancient tome detailing every creature in existence, including the fey, had been entrusted to the Elves at the dawn of creation. Whoever possessed the book also possessed great knowledge, expertise that could be dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands. Ownership of the book also ensured great power, power she could not allow a vampire to keep.

For a week now, Julija had watched him and tried to gauge the best time to strike. Failure was not an option for the best thief among the Elves. Secretly, she was proud of her talent; it had served her people well. Elves were renowned for their light step, and it just so happened her fingers were stickier than most of her kind.

Security systems could not deter her; she possessed enough magic to nix the best system in the world.

She would retrieve the book, once she figured out how to bypass the perceptive vampire and his minions. One thing still puzzled her—how had the vampire stolen it to begin with when only Elf Royals were allowed to touch it? Another dilemma for her since she was not an Elf Royal.

Her best chance to retrieve it would be in two days when the vampire attended the depot dedication of Veil's newly renovated train station. Feeling melodramatic about the event, she rolled her eyes again. How humans loved to waste money. The homeless lived near the train station, beneath the bridges in cardboard boxes. Died there too, while the station went through elaborate renovations for the wealthy and elite.

Julija glanced at her watch again as the black limousine rolled to a halt in front of the vampire’s home. Like clockwork, the man left for work every day at precisely the same time. Talk about being a creature of habit!

The vampire in question strode about as blatant as he pleased in daylight. Daylight! Vampires and daylight mixed like metal and acid. Daylight and acid were supposed to vaporize vampires and metal, but apparently not so with this vampire.

Every cocky step he took reeked arrogance. While she pondered how he managed to keep from melting beneath the sunlight, he lifted his head. Their gazes locked.

Cool as ice, and trained for confrontations, she returned his gaze. While not the most skilled fighter, she possessed some ability in that area.

Landau’s stylishly cut, dark blonde hair gleamed like gold beneath the bright sun. The man was tall, broad shouldered, and athletically built. The charcoal gray business suit, tailored precisely to fit his frame, bespoke wealth—not money, but wealth. Even from this distance, he oozed pheromones and drew her like an addictive narcotic. That could be dangerous for her elfin libido—inordinately high in comparison to other fey creatures.

The vampire tossed her a crooked grin before sliding into the back seat, leaving little question in her mind he’d spotted her. Unmoving, she watched as the limo pulled away.

Perfect. He knows he’s being watched.

Although gone from the residence, unfortunately that didn’t mean Landau left his home unguarded. Oh, no, nothing could be that easy.

Flagrant to her elfin eyes, his home embodied magic. Translated, that meant he’d opened the Ivory Elfin Book of Lore and was, in fact, utilizing the spells in the book. In all likelihood he’d used the same witchery to protect himself from the glaring sun.

Because of this, she’d have to kill him once she had the book in her possession again.

* * * * *

Landau adjusted the black sunglasses on his face and glanced out the limousine window.

The woman on the bench appealed to him with her pale, almost white, blonde hair. Through her thick shades he’d assessed her eyes to be pale blue with barely a hint of color, rather albino in nature. Her milky white complexion had looked softer than satin. He wondered how such delicate skin would bruise.

But she had an agenda. Either she was a reporter—not likely—or up to no good. Bingo! Landau couldn’t wait to find out the no good part. A long time had passed since he’d enjoyed himself.

Although he’d tried, he couldn’t read her mind. She possessed one of few human minds he couldn’t penetrate. Or she wasn’t human. The phenomena lent her an air of mystery. Even though he couldn't glean her thoughts, he knew her mind worked at top speed, planning, scheming, and devising until a perfect little blueprint had been mapped out in her mind. Her eyes were too shrewd to suggest otherwise.

He’d tossed her a snarky little grin before entering the limo, just to let her know he knew she was stalking him. That should leave give her something to think about. He chuckled then addressed his bodyguard. “Find out who she is.”

“Immediately,” Edward, an Abecedarian—a fledgling, in human terms—agreed and then tipped his nose in the air and sniffed as if in disdain over being assigned such a menial task.

Chapter Two

Alberic, the Ivory King—a pain in the ass old geezer in Julija’s opinion—greeted her at the hotel door. “I assume the man followed the same routine as before?”

“Yep,” she replied, ambling past him and collapsing onto the sofa. Julija set her feet down on the coffee table, crossed her ankles and looked up at him.

With arms crossed over his chest, he sent her a disgruntled gaze. Long, white-blonde hair fell to the middle of his back, interspersed with a braid of ebony on the right side of his head . . . the mark of the Ivory King. Alberic looked twenty, but was more like twenty thousand years old. He’d been around since the beginning of creation. Because of his age, he thought he knew every fucking thing about the universe. In Julija’s opinion, very few things were worse than dealing with a self-professed know-it-all.

“Have you conceived a plan?” he asked.

Why must he always talk down to her? Who said she needed a keeper anyway? If she found out who, she’d strangle the cretin when she returned home. She was a thief, not some freaky highborn elf with truly scary abilities, and she hungered to do her job without every move being questioned.

To piss him off, Julija shrugged. The subtle white-flare in his eyes suggested she’d hit her mark. “I figure the Depot dedication is the best time.”

“Figure?” He arched a snowy eyebrow.

She wanted to rip the blasted thing off and shove it down his insufferable throat.

Yeah,” she replied, trying to sound bland and fooling herself into believing she didn’t give a damn about her impertinence. To push her point, she arched her own eyebrow. A ballsy move, but Alberic’s elitist attitude rubbed her the wrong way.

“And if you’re wrong?”

Talk about playing the devil’s advocate. “I’m not.”

“But what if you are?”Alberic persisted.

“Look.” She sat up and rested her forearm on a knee. “I’m the thief. Allow me to do my job, will ya?”

“It doesn't feel right, Julija.”

“Is that your hocus pocus talking?” She shot back, waggling a finger.

“This is our future.”

His impatience grated on her nerves.

“Need I remind you he’s elfin kin?” he added.

Julija shot to her feet, fisting her fingers into her palms. “Have I ever let you down?”

The white eyebrow rose again. Really she ought to be promoted to sainthood for having to deal with the Ivory King.

* * * * *

Landau relaxed in his office chair and flipped a pen through his fingers when Doreen and Edward, his Abecedarian vampire children, entered his office. Doreen’s hand was laced into the crook of Edward’s elbow.

The sun had dipped below the horizon. Spells from the Ivory Elfin Book of Lore had provided Landau with a means to endure sunlight, had granted him freedom from the night’s slavery. He’d not divulged his secret to any other vampire and had only protected Edward from the sun because he needed his assistance during the day.

Doreen’s short, glossy black hair curled around her pixie face, and her sable eyes were enhanced by her dark makeup. Gracefully, she perched on the edge of her chair, crossing her ankles daintily. Edward stood behind her in full military stance.

“Find anything?” Landau asked.

“A name only,” Edward responded.

“You like her?” Doreen drew her mouth into an orchestrated pout.

“She intrigues me.” No human had the ability to hold his fascination. “Her name?”

“She checked into the hotel as Julija Sinclair.”

“Real name?”

Edward shrugged. “She’s a ghost.”

She wasn’t a ghost. History existed about her somewhere; it was a matter of finding it. “Family or friends?”

“Some chap is holed up with her.”

He delivered Edward a direct stare, an indication for him to continue.

“He’s not registered at the hotel, but I did discover one other bit of information. According to the hotel clerk, Julija likes to patronize Ravens.”

Landau rubbed his temples. Ravens was a nightclub that catered to individuals with a taste for debauchery.

“What’s the name of their hotel?"

“Veil Suites Inn, room 486.”

A low-end establishment. Landau frowned. Could she be after money? Did she hope to extort or blackmail him in some way?

“Does she visit other locations with regularity?”

A smile curled Edward’s lips. “Other than your home, that is?”

“Yeah, smartass,” he said with a grin.

“Nope.”

Ravens. Wow. The girl had an itch to scratch if she frequented the hardcore-not-for-the-faint-of-heart club. Landau rubbed his chin. Tonight would be a good night to pay a visit to Ravens.

Chapter Three

Landau entered the dimly lit club a little before midnight. A wave of rambling thoughts flooded him. With concerted effort, he managed to push them back and focus on the singer and the strangled words:

Oh, Dark Angel of death

Come feast upon my breath . . . .

The bottled-blonde, needle-loving singer belted out the lyrics in an ear-screeching howl. The blaring music pulsated inside Landau’s head, and the walls seemed to swell with the cumbersome beat. Horrible stuff. He preferred the Jazz Club up on Dixon Avenue.

While people from all walks of life danced to the music, he mentally probed the room, hoping his stalker would be here tonight.

Is that Landau Jamieson? He heard the thought from someone’s mind before pushing it aside and sifting through those open to him.

Wham! He winced when his mentalism struck a blockade. Again, he probed and again, wham . . . blocked.

With his gaze roaming the crowd, he felt the blood pulse through his brain. A satisfied grin tilted the corner of his lips. Ah, there she was.

Landau’s hunt had come to an abrupt halt.

Julija’s white-blonde hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail. He decided her eyes were ice blue without the shades deepening their hue. Her outfit displayed her dicey curves.

A man sat across from her with his back to Landau, his bearing rigid, almost regal. The stiff line of his spine suggested he found this hellhole highly offensive.

With her fingertips, Julija massaged her temples. Landau slid up to their table.

“Hello, darling,” he drawled, drawing Julija’s gaze.

His little stalker merely glared at him. Landau leaned an elbow on the table, blocking her view of her male friend. Her gaze grew frostier.

“Careful, careful.” He waved a finger at her and dropped his voice to his most charming tone. “You don’t want to give me frostbite.”

She looked at her companion, and Landau thought he saw irony in the icy-blue depths of her eyes. He smiled before canting his head around to take stock of her friend. The man stared into his eyes with a tight, knowing smile.

Landau stumbled back a step. Realizing he’d reacted unseemly, he planted his feet and found himself gawking at the strand of black braided hair and the silvery white eyes. “To what do I owe the honor of the Ivory King’s presence in my fair city?”

“Ivory what?” Julija echoed in feigned disbelief.

“Save it, love,” he said with a killing glance, mocking her lie. “And why are you stalking me?” Clearly, her features were elfin.

“Oh, do beg off.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not stalking you.”

“You—”

“Your life’s in danger,” the highborn elf said.

“What?” Landau narrowed his eyes at the royal cretin. “And I suppose you’re here to protect me?”

The snot inclined his head.

Landau scoffed. “Bulletin! I’m a vampire.”

“Save it, love,” Julija shot back at him.

Landau whipped his head about and raised his eyebrows.

She gave him a tight smile. “Call yourself whatever you like; you’re still a Crimson Elf.”

He felt his nostrils flare. “Yeah,” he said with a sneer, his incisors exposed. Under normal circumstances, he could conceal them, but from the moment he’d caught sight of Julija he’d been unable to contain them. “That didn’t seem to matter when the rest of you fucking elves decided to eradicate us. Don’t expect me to believe you suddenly care.”

“We allowed your race to survive.” The sardonic comment came from her snotty friend.

“So you have.” His sarcasm should have knocked the breath from their lungs.

His people shouldn’t have been exterminated. They hadn’t asked to become a new elfin race, driven by bloodlust, never to see the sun again, never to screw again. Of all the curses to choose from, he wasn’t sure which had been the biggest blow. Elves were known among other races for their high libidos. In the end, his elfin kin had turned against their own kind.

Landau raked his gaze over the elf-man. “I believe I recall you from another time.”

Before Landau became a vampire at Chaos’ whim, he’d known the Ivory King well, and this elf wasn’t king then. The elf cocked his head to the side, awaiting further comment.

“Do you like what you see?” Landau turned his attention to Julija instead of elaborating, snubbing the royal elf.

Julija sputtered. “I b-beg your . . . um . . . pardon?”

“You were studying me.”

“No.” She sniffed and scrunched her nose as if his scent offended her. “I wasn’t.”

He found the situation amusing and called her bluff with a knowing grin. Intrigued, he watched her eyes focus on his fangs before she licked her lips. Her gaze felt like a caress. Hell, even his cock responded with a twitch, a fascinating reaction. Not simply because he’d been impotent for ten thousand years, but also because she was an elf. Lust was an oddity. Being aroused by an Ivory Elf—an enemy—was ludicrous.

“Would you care to dance?” Landau surprised himself with the request.

She flicked a nervous glance in the direction of the man-elf. She swallowed hard and replied crisply, “I don't dance.”

“Good,” Landau purred. Cool fingers clamped around her wrist and yanked her to her feet. She squawked like any human would and stumbled to catch her footing. “Then I'll have the pleasure of teaching you.”

Smiling by the time he reached the dance floor with his unwanted partner in tow, he turned to her and said, “Let’s tango.”

She glared up at him, and all Landau could think about was her sexy curves. Her hands hugged her hips, the bright red painted nails stark against her pale flesh. The low-rider jeans exposed a swath of skin where her pants and buttercup shirt gapped. Her belly was flat, her navel pierced with a dangling glitter of rubies. Elves loved sparkly trinkets. Her divine top fell into a deep V, exposing the swell of her full breasts.

Definitely fuckable.

Although he hadn’t taken a woman since his transformation, he burned with the desire to fuck her, and the whore-inspired clothing clinging to her body implied she was easy.

Even in heels, she barely reached his chin, and he could easily lift her up and screw her against the wall. While everyone watched. If only he had the capability.

“What part of ‘I don’t dance’ don’t you get, vampire?”

Angry, she fairly spat the word vampire. Her feral eyes gleamed and turned him on, as did the fury smoking her voice.

“How about the part where I don’t give a damn?”

“Go to hell!” Her eyes sparked again and Landau found it sexually fascinating.

“You’re making a scene.”

Julija glanced about the bar. Several other patrons stared in their direction, but she shrugged, confirming his suspicion that she didn’t give a shit. “Your problem; you’re the prince here, not me.”

She turned to walk away, but before she took a step he clamped his fingers around her upper arm and snatched her around. He snaked his other arm around her waist as he drew her to him.

Her nostrils flared.

Supremely satisfied he’d gotten a rise out of her, the next thing he knew his mouth claimed hers. Their teeth met and she moaned, no doubt from pain, but he hoped from pleasure, as well.

He moved his hand up her lower back and grabbed a lock of her hair in his fist. With a tug, he tilted her head back and her mouth slipped open so he could worship her with his tongue.

Julija stood immobile in his arms. She didn’t fight him. She didn’t do anything as he tasted her. He sensed her surprise, suspected he’d shocked her into silence.

She tasted like nectar from the gods. He hadn’t planned to accost her, had merely intended to get her away from that haughty highborn. Her defiance now dared him into action.

He hadn’t kissed a woman in ten thousand years, hadn’t desired to kiss a woman in all that time either. In awe, he realized an erection had sprouted from that simple kiss—his first boner in eons.

Once he tasted her, he wanted more than just her body. He wanted to taste the warmth of her flesh beneath the pressure of his fangs, wanted to taste the stickiness of her life against his tongue.

And, oh, so easily, his fangs would burst forth, as easily as he could imagine her papery flesh giving way beneath them. Her coppery blood would spurt . . . .

Landau shoved her aside. He’d been so close to taking her right there on the dance floor while the highborn and humans watched. So close to draining her too.

Struggling for control, he slammed his eyes shut and focused on the unnatural shake of his hands. The depth of his uncontrollable emotions alarmed him. If not for the last fleeting moment of lucidity, he would have taken her blood and filled her body with his right there.

The rushing sound of blood pumping through her veins filled his ears. The beating of her heart pulsed in his head. She was frightened and had good reason to be. He wanted her; had almost lost control of himself. The thought frightened him.

Opening his eyes, he met her dazed gaze. Her fingers pressed against her slightly parted lips. Her eyes were wide, expressing confusion.

The highborn stepped through the crowd—hell, to be frank, the crowd parted for the bastard—that had encircled Julija and him. Painfully, Landau’s heart pounded and he couldn’t swallow past the knot in his throat.

The male elf stepped into his path, placed himself directly between them, and glared into his eyes. “You’d be wise not to repeat the offense,” he said haughtily.

“Why?” Landau barked. “She your elf?”

Julija regained a portion of her composure and stalked up to the highborn. Amused, Landau watched as her anger eliminated her ability to hold her present form and she shifted. Her ears became pointy, a distinct elfin trait he’d have recognized had she not been in human form. The elf birthmark slid into view on her left temple—a curly-Q squiggle identifying her as an Ivory Elf. All elves possessed such a mark somewhere on their faces. The highborn would have one too, but he was still in enough control to mask his elfhood.

Anger sparked in her eyes, and her luscious, pouty lips formed a straight, hard line. She nudged her friend aside and slapped Landau with all the strength she could muster—quadrupled, powerful fey strength.

Landau’s head snapped back and he growled. He stared her down—or tried to—while the stinging in his cheek burst to life like a torch.

The highborn smirked, but did nothing to intervene. Landau felt the fire in his eyes and knew they’d recognize how he struggled to leash his power.

He’d have to kill her now. Too bad, such spunk could have proven entertaining in bed, particularly after such a long interval of impotence. He had little doubt he’d find a wealth of pleasure in her sexy body. But no one, absolutely no one, struck him without provocation, and one kiss was not provocation.

Landau inhaled a calm breath and tamped down his anger. Yes, such a waste that he wouldn’t feel her body writhing beneath him while he fucked her to climax.

“Until we meet again, Jewel.” Landau uttered the endearment between teeth clenched so hard, his fangs pierced his bottom lip.

“Not if I can help it,” she snarled.

He allowed her to have the last word now, but soon he’d have the final one.

Friday, February 26, 2010

I received a letter from Whipped Cream informing me that Wicked Proposal is up for Book of the Week Poll. What a surprise this is. So I am humbly and shamelessly begging you all to visit Whipped Cream and vote for Wicked Proposal. Here is the link: http://www.longandshortreviews.com/WC/recentrev.htm

Voting runs from Saturday, 2/27 through 2/28. Just a small window to vote. Hope you'll vote for me. Thank you so much.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Buying an eReader is, I have to say with all honesty, the best thing I have ever done. Not only does it make reading books easy, it makes reading sexy, too! There I said it! Reading a book with an eReader is damn sexy. When I finish an eBook I can sit back, relax, grab a pizza and (here's the best bit) I don't have to tell it I love it. Although *whispers* I do.

The down side. I catch the train to work and back each day. I am used to sitting by myself, minding my own business. Once I get my eReader out though darn near everyone wants to sit next to me! ARGHH! It's frustrating 'cause I like to stretch my legs and take up as much room as I can.

Not now. Nope.

People want to see what sexy damn thing I've got in my hands. That cream leather cover, that tactile plastic and that easy to read screen. Thank God I don't need two hands to operate the thing, cause I'm now squashed up near the window of the train with all these people gawking! LOL Having an eReader really is a one-handed affair. No more turning pages and trying to read the right hand side of a really thick book by breaking its spine! Yayyy. Now, if only it came with curiosity repellant it would be perfect.

I should have bought an eReader ages ago. Pity they've only just come out here in Australia otherwise I would have. Also, don't forget my competition. It's still running. Buy Shadows of the Mind and pick a book from my back catalogue. Simple as that (see "here's the deal" post below for more details)

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

You won't believe what I did yesterday! I had a meeting with an agent to pitch Dangerous Flames. First off, I leave everything till the last minute. As my critique partner worried endlessly for the past month or two while writing her pitch, I didn't. However, yesterday morning I agonized over my pitch and memorized it all in one morning. I kept reminding myself that that lady could make my career and it terrified me. You should probably know that when I panic, my mind goes blank so I prepared for that with my pitch scribbled over six note cards (it wasn't long... I just write big!) in case I forgot what I was going to say. The agent had come in to Phoenix and had pitching sessions set up for the entire day. My turn had finally come and I can't even describe how scared I was as I went up to her room. I didn't want to have any expectations on what she'd be like and certainly ended up being really nice. That did nothing to calm my nerves though. I started with my one line pitch and then two lines into the longer part of the pitch, she started writing on a card. It threw me off and you guessed it... my mind went when blank. I was still on my first note card so I glanced down quickly to get back on track but didn't want to shuffle through the cards and waste any of my ten minutes so I ended up making up the rest. I figured I'd blown my chance. Then she handed me her card and told me to send her the first three chapters! Was it worth it? Heck yeah but I really don't know if I could do another pitch session. I'd love to hear what you have to say! Leave me a comment or question. Talk to you soon, Wendy Ely

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

The following is my speech from Romance in Bonham. I'm sure it reads much better than my speech..ugh...how I hate to speak in public! After reading, let me know your favorite genres and why.

I’m an avid reader and enjoy reading all kinds of books. My wide taste of genres extends into my writing where I write not only historical novels but paranormal and fantasy novels as well. For me, it’s no different than the wide variety of taste in the foods I eat. One night I may crave Mexican food and the next, Italian. The next week I may have to drive half way across town to my favorite Turkish deli for their amazing dolmas and Turkish coffee. So, you get my drift. It just depends on my mood. I’m sure some of you are the same way but if you’re not…if you’re strictly a meat and potatoes kind of girl. Oh, sure..you might go to the fancy Italian place on your anniversary but most weeks, you and your crock pot are working overtime…stop and think to yourself. Hey…I’m sick of hamburgers…I’m sick of meatloaf….I want something exotic. And I’m not talking about spinach enchiladas, either, ladies. We live close enough to Mexico. Mexican food is about as down home as steaks are here in the Lone Star state. I’m talking Greek food, Indian food, Vietnamese food or Japanese sushi. Don’t be afraid. You may like a taste for something new. You may love it. You may shock yourself.

Growing up, I loved reading Judith McNaught historical romance novels. I even wrote her once. I think I was like 16 years old or so. I just had to tell her that there was no other human on the planet who understood love like she did. I still love her books to this day but I read little else other than the searing love trials of the London Ton. I dreamed of marrying a duke or an earl after working as a maid in his giant mansion and he one day notices me and is struck by my pure beauty and just HAS TO HAVE ME…despite the fact that I have no dowry and my father is a shoemaker. He has even heard me sing as I cook in the kitchen and my voice touches him in places that he never…well…nevermind….you know what I’m getting at. We all have our favorite genres and historical romance was mine for a very long time. Then I decided I wanted to taste something new. I started reading contemporary romance and devoured everything Nora Roberts and Sandra Brown and Danielle Steele wrote. I fell in love with this genre and just couldn’t get enough of it. As I read, I dreamed of being a high power corporate attorney in six inch heels, owner of an advertising agency who worried more about her lingerie than her business suits and a spunky private eye forced to work with a cop who irritates me to no end…particularly because he’s the biggest male chauvinist pig I’ve ever met but he’s also the sexiest man alive.

For a long time, I stuck to those two very strong, very comfortable genres. I was a traditional romance reader….my favorite authors sent me back in time to London or to present day New York…almost every time. I was a meat and potatoes kind of girl. Don’t get me wrong. Meat and potatoes are GOOD! Those books are the bread and butter of our industry and just like mac and cheese….they are comfort food for our souls. We know what to expect. We know we’ll be satisfied and highly entertained along the way.

One day I decided I was sick of the same old meatloaf. Oh…I knew I’d be hungry for mom’s cooking again but I wanted to venture out. I wanted to try something new. Maybe it was my mood. Maybe it was a wild streak I had. I couldn’t be sure. I was at the mall and stopped by the book store, as I always did. I found myself in the suspense section and saw a book with a wolf on the cover and a full moon. I read the back cover and did a double take. Did it really say what I thought it said? Did I misunderstand? I checked the aisle to make sure I wasn’t in the horror section. I am NOT a horror girl. Sure enough….I was in romantic suspense…where some of Sandra Brown’s books were located. She was safe enough. I read the name of the author. I’d never heard of her. Rebecca York. I looked at her picture. She looked like my sweet grandma. Did this lady really write a book about a werewolf? And this is a love story? This was the first time I’d ever even seen such a thing. Other than Beauty and the Beast, I’d never heard of a furry guy falling in love. And this wasn’t a comedy either. I checked the aisle heading to make sure again. Nope. This was not a romantic comedy. Back then, Ms. York’s book was labeled as romantic suspense. The paranormal genre was on the cusp of breaking out and had yet to form a strong audience….but boy…when it did break….that audience was salivating wanting more..and I was part of that audience. I devoured Rebecca York’s Killing Moon and begged for more. Overnight I tossed out my meat loaf, emptied my fridge of the cold leftovers and dove into the most exotic food I’d ever tasted. Today the market is saturated with tales of vampires, werewolves and witches. This has even bled into the young adult market. I had to smile when I saw my teenage nieces reading Stephanie Meyers’ Twilight series. I’ve taken my own 13 year old daughter to see the movies and who knew? Girls can fall in love with vampires….werewolves too? Charlaine Harris’s popular Sookie Stackhouse mysteries were turned into the HBO series, True Blood. Now we have the amazing Sherrilyn Kenyon and J.R. Ward to read over and over. My taste buds are happy campers now. The paranormal genre exploded as readers gobbled up tales of dark, brooding heroes, in search of love…and blood….or heroes fighting to protect their wolf packs from man, all the while falling in love with human females.

As a writer, in a paranormal world, there are less rules and more freedom to create. This is why I particularly love this genre. I think it’s pretty cool when my hero can’t meet up with my heroine for her big art debut because the dang thing fell on a full moon. And my heroine just doesn’t understand why the only thing in her lover’s freezer is stacks and stacks of steaks. And the fridge? Nothing. Not even condiments. These are the things that keep me up at night. The real challenge is keeping it real and believable in a very magical world. I want my paranormals to read like a contemporary does. I strive to make the odd seem natural. Otherwise it’s just silly. Some readers will never take a romance writer, especially a paranormal author seriously but dang it if I’m not going to die trying.

Have you ever met those folks that say, “I read only Non-Fiction.” Don’t you feel like saying, “Why? Do you like being depressed?” These readers will never care. They will never take us seriously. My happiest days are the days I receive a letter or an email from a reader and she tells me she just finished my book and she fell in love with the hero and oh how she wished she met a man like him….uh…and the man is half wolf. That is success to me!

After tasting paranormal, I dove into fantasy and time travel and found another genre I enjoyed and loved. I have to confess that I don’t love it quite as much as paranormal but I love it enough to write in this genre as well. I was lucky enough to be selected for a fantasy anthology with eight other authors. We were all assigned a Greek muse. In my story, A Love Beyond Time, my heroine is Clio, Muse of History. I was so excited because I adore history. My heroine traveled back in time to the Salem witch trials and the Italian Renaissance before going to Hades to save the soul of her love. This is a huge stretch from where I began as a reader yet it was really a blending of genres…historical and fantasy. And so much fun to write.

And still I love to write historicals, especially 20th century historicals because editors and agents have told me that there is no market for them. I grew up listening to stories about WWII and The Great Depression from my grandparents. I receive more letters about my historical romance, The Wooden Nickel, than any of my other books. And I think this is because more people can identify with it. People actually lived through this. The 30s and 40s are a fascinating time in World history. It’s also a time of great heartbreak. And it wasn’t that long ago. That’s why I must write about it. We can never forget the Holocaust. There are still people living today who experienced Hell on earth. Writing about this time period is my way of honoring the people who survived, the people who died and reminds me of how very lucky I am. It’s an important time. A time we shouldn’t forget but I’m not like those readers who boast they only read non-fiction. There’s nothing wrong with sprinkling romance into real life events. People fell in love in terrible times. We can learn and have a beautiful romance all in one sitting. These are the books I love to read too. Those that teach me about life in another time with romance sprinkled between the pages.

So, really…what I’m trying to say is dive out of your comfort zone once in a while. Pick up your favorite genre but pick up something new too. You may find a world you never knew existed.

Monday, February 22, 2010

Tonight, I’m sitting at home watching Extreme Home Makeover, and it’s an awesome episode! This family is totally deserving of a home makeover (If you can call it that! They completely tore down their old home and built a new one). While the show was building them a new house, they sent the family on a rock and roll vacation. The family was a very giving group that ran a non-profit music school and so the vacation was a dream come true for them. They got to spend time with KISS and the dad got to play the drums with the band. How awesome would that be? Even if you don’t care for rock music, you’d have to appreciate what a life changing experience that would be.

It got me to thinking, what would be your fantasy? I’m not sure if I could even come up with just one thing. There are tons of people I’d like to meet, and millions of things I’d like to do. For one, I’d love to travel around the world and see all the amazing things out there. I’d love to spend time in Italy, Greece, England, Scotland, Ireland, Australia…to name a few. :D That would be awe inspiring!

I’d love to meet some of the musical artists/groups that I listen to all the time. For one, I’d love to meet Brad Paisley. I bet he has an amazing personality. He’d have to. His songs are fun. I love to listen to music that can make me laugh and want to dance at the same time. I’d also like to meet Kelly Pickler. She seems to have a great personality, as well. Of course, those a just a couple of the many, many people on my list.

I’d also be thrilled to go to New York and get to tour a major publishing house. I’d love to see the inner workings of the business. To meet the editors. To see the slush pile. That would be a dream come true for me!

So, what is your fantasy? What would be something that would be life changing for you? Leave a comment and let me know what you think.

Sunday, February 21, 2010

Ever been writing along, pretty as you please on a book, everything sounds good and works well, and the book is kicking some major ass....then you reach a certain page or scene and well...it goes limp on you?

Yeah, I think that just happened to me. On all my books. Not just one, but every last freakin' one I'm working on lately. It's pretty damn sucky, too.

Most of the time, I just slog through all the mediocrity to get to the end. I know this is only a rough draft, so I'm not too worried about it in terms of overall product, but it's still a bit disheartening. The more "scaffolding" you put up as you write, the more you have to fill in later. I like to get my rough sounding pretty much like a finished project by the time I'm at the end. I'm one of those people who like to birth entire novels with very few fixes the first time out. Anything less and I become very frustrated. I know. Unrealistic. I just can't seem to help myself sometimes. Maybe it's because the story that's in my head is sometimes not the exact one that comes out on the page.

Especially when I'm going through a case of the pantsers.

Sometimes it happens. I'll know basically what I want to happen, but I don't outline. On novels this almost never happens to me. I'm a complusive outliner when it comes to novels. Not so much novellas. So when a novel starts to wander down its own path, or I'm writing so fast that there isn't time to outline, I get into scary, often weed-infested areas where I have a hard time recognizing the daisies from the dandilions. Or the Tin Man will suddenly look at me and say, "You don't suppose there are any wild animals here." And the Scarecrow will answer, "Only lions, and tigers, and bears."

It's a scary place to be.

So, enough of this. What do you do to get yourself unstuck from the weeds? I'm going to have a cup of tea, eat a peanut butter granola bar and hope for the best.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

There are some really great books nominated at Love Romances Cafe 2009 Best of Nominations. My book, Elfin Blood, has been nominated for 2009 Best Paranormal Book *hint-hint, wink-wink*. Maybe this sounds crazy, but I'm excited to just be nominated! Noble Romance Publishing--my publisher!--has been nominated as best e-publisher and Keta Diablo has two anthologies nominated, which are:

Vampires are ever young, ever beautiful, and ruled by the cravings of the flesh. In Boys of the Bite, the gay male side of the vampire's legend is explored in every erotic possibility. From historical settings where vampires move through high society to modern vamps you find at the all-night laundromat, these lusty men know how to hunt, whether for love or just a midnight snack.

Mixing stories by gay male authors like R. R. Angell and Bob Panadero with some of Ravenous Romance's stars of m/m romance like Keta Diablo and Ryan Field, Boys of the Bite gives every reader plenty to get his or her blood pumping.

Spank Me Twice:(can't show this cover art, as it's not PG13)

More information here:http://tinyurl.com/p7qff4Wowzers. Spank Me Twice is mouth-wateringly delicious down to the last page. What an incredible array of writers in this book. Jude Mason starts it off with a delicious tale of a naughty husband who gets his punishment and it goes out with a bang with a male love story by Keta Diablo. Spank Me Twice is like an Oreo cookie. Yummy crunchy cookie on the outside with delectable cream-filling in the middle. All the stories are fast paced and will have you needing a fan on high next to you.

~~~~~

The rest of the nominations are listed below, along with how to vote for your favorite...but remember, voting ENDSFebruary 22nd, so get busy voting!!!!

VOTING INSTRUCTIONS: To vote, email Dawn Roberto at dawn_roberto @ yahoo DOT com with your choices. Be sure to put "LRC's Best of 2009 Awards" in the subject line of the email. Putting this in the subject line because without it, your e-mail will be deleted and your vote not counted!!!

Friday, February 19, 2010

“…If you’re a romantic at heart; if you enjoy a hero and heroine that strike sparks off each other that leads to a sizzling and sexy conclusion; if you like a touch of danger to add a spice to your romance then I definitely suggest you check out Tierney O’Malley’sWicked Persuasion.”—Kathy, Dark Diva Reviews

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Lately it seems like records have been broken everywhere and I'm not talking about the Olympics eithers. I live in Dallas, Texas and we had snow on Christmas Eve, leaving us with snow on Christmas Day..something we have not seen in these here parts for quite some time. A White Christmas was something even my great great grandparents had not seen. It hasn't happened since the 1800s! Usually the sun is shining and it's fairly warm on Christmas Day here. It's even been in the 70's before. That's more like a Texas Christmas.

And now...we just had what the weather folks call "the once in a lifetime" snow fall!! It snowed quite a bit in the 70's when I was a kid but usually five inches max. It snowed 12 1/2 inches here last week!!! We made two snowmen..well...two snow ladies and one was a snow witch, complete with a Halloween wig and green nose, broomstick and pet frog. We made tons of snow ice cream and snow cones. My two year old just loved to eat the snow plain in a giant plastic bowl as he watched his cartoons. Normally, if we get snow at all, it's not fit to eat, not clean enough..dirty and icy. This was pure champagne snow, powder fresh and white, white, white. It was so yummy! I watched the news and saw how officials in Canada were trucking snow in for the Olympics. Hey, come down here and get some! We have PLENTY!

Well, now most of the snow has thawed. Our snow ladies are two mushy piles in the yard but we'll never forget the record snowfall of 2010! We were snapping pictures of the kids in front of the snowman. I had a flashback to the 70's when I sat on my dad's knee next to our snowman. And now my babies are on my knee. It was cool to finally get the snow back from our childhoods and THEN SOME!!!!

I thought it fitting that I'm writing a novel set in Alaska when we receive record snow!!! Here's a teaser from my novel set in Circle City, near the Yukon Flats.

Except

Zoe stacked frozen venison steaks into the oversized freezer on the back porch while the puppy relieved himself near a frozen boulder. She heard a twig snap then the sound of crunching snow. The puppy didn’t weigh enough to crunch snow and wasn’t near the woods. She felt someone watching her and reached for her rifle leaning against the cabin. A gray blur flew past her and she raised her rifle. She blinked. And then the puppy was yelping, held in the jaws of an enormous gray wolf. Zoe took a step forward, cocked the rifle. The wolf growled, baring his fangs while the puppy dangled helplessly, kicking like a frenzied jack rabbit. She took a step forward and from out of the woods and the sides of her cabin, a circle of wolves emerged, all of them growling, approaching with canines flashing. Huge wolves. Like the one she’d killed by the creek. Like Jack’s mother. She blinked and realized in a split second that she’d never kill them all. She took a step backward onto the porch, reaching blindly for the door behind her while she struggled to hold the rifle up with one arm. And then one of them from the left pounced on her. She screamed and fought as the wolf snapped at her throat, spilling blood, nicking her with one sharp canine. Her world swam before her. The panic and fear was all too much. She knew she would soon die and though it would end her pain, she realized in that final moment of consciousness that she wanted to live. More than anything. Jacob’s face flitted through her mind and she felt the sensation of her husband holding her close, breathing into her ear. Another wolf bounded into the cabin and changed into a man when his feet hit the worn wooden floors. He grabbed the wolf by the neck and slammed him against a wall. “I want her alive!” Lord of the Wolfen turned and growled at the lesser wolf now shaking his head in the corner. “Take her to the caverns,” he ordered. The wolf nodded in answer and was changed in two steps, now a bulky man with black, spiky hair. He grabbed a quilt off the bed and wrapped the woman carefully. Blood oozed from her neck. He licked it clean and then hauled her over one shoulder. When the three stepped outside, the wolves were now all changed. All of them were men except for the young woman that carried the whining puppy. Dacien withdrew a wooden flute from his coat pocket and blew three silent notes. From both sides of the cabin came four dog sleds, led by a fleet of rambunctious, glorious, white Alaskan huskies, blue eyed smiling creatures of servitude. Kory took the puppy in his hands and held him to him, breathing in his scent. “We’re going home, grandson.” The Wolfen boarded elaborate sleds with red velvet covered seats and fastened fur lined hats over their heads. This part of the woods was secluded with only a few homes between Zoe’s cabin and the caverns, but they could not risk being seen as wolves, particularly during hunting season. The few times they’d actually come across people, Kory used his Russian accent and had said they were vacationing in the area. He’d remembered to erase the person’s memory on all but one occasion. And it had been a grave error. The local sheriff had stopped them, looking for some hunters who had reportedly killed two polar bears. And it had been true. Lord of the Wolfen had killed two of the creatures for the waxing ceremony. They’d feast with the young males coming of age in the clan. The sheriff had let Kory go, bidding him a safe trip but the wolf had smelled the man’s disbelief, a scent akin to dry earth. The Wolfen were now being watched and Kory continued to curse himself for failing to hypnotize the man and erase his memory when he’d had the chance. A fierce north wind blew the snow into their faces, but the dogs knew the way. Night had fallen when they reached the caverns. Dacien leapt from his sled, turning into a wolf in mid air, springing into the cave and down the narrow, freezing pathway that led to the secret snow covered entrance. Upon arrival, he changed back, reached into his coat pocket and unlocked the circular roof, allowing the clan passage into their home underground. The caverns of the Wolfen were 1500 years old. A mansion beneath the earth with two dozen rooms, housing Lord of the Wolfen, his family, his brothers and their families. It was their loyalty to one another that had kept them alive and thriving for so long. Tisa’s banishment had been hard on all of them and now her death had plunged them all into darkest mourning. But there was much to celebrate tonight. One of the pups had survived. The woman’s sacrifice to the Holy Trinity would at least now be delayed. She would not die for killing Tisa. Not tonight. Kory would allow his grandson the grand honor, but first he had to grow into a man. A Wolfen man. The Kontar and Ivan would be dealt with soon. And Kory knew just how to punish them all for his daughter’s death.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

A routine fuel run through one of the planet’s dimensional portals explodes in violence when Major Geneieve Lockhart’s Jumper team is hammered with an unprovoked attack. With her ship disabled and contact to mission control limited, Genie faces her worst nightmare—losing her crew on the blood-soaked floor of a foreign desert.

Help comes from an unlicensed freelance mercenary ship, piloted by a man she never thought she’d see again. Her AWOL ex-lover, Lt. Col. Dante Bowen.

Bowen knows answering Genie’s distress call puts his undercover mission to expose a governmental conspiracy at risk. But after faking his death six years ago, he owes her something. Ending up chained in her cargo hold for transport to his own court martial wasn’t the thanks-for-the-rescue he expected.

The bridges between them may be in ashes, but their desire burns as hot as ever. Even as Genie wonders what happened to Bowen’s code of honor, her body betrays her heart at every turn. The hostile race that attacked her ship, though, is coming back to finish them off. The only way to ensure freedom—on both sides of the dimensional divide—is to put her trust in the one man who betrayed it…

Misery wormed its way into her heart like a parasite. The team’s safety landed on her shoulders. The fact they had been ambushed and slaughtered was her responsibility. She should have been more careful. Should have sought out alternate methods of intelligence instead of relying solely on what her superiors wanted her to know—which in this case hadn’t been much. How could a force as powerful as the Muloons pose an immediate threat during this jump and not be part of the information provided to teams crossing the portals during the time of heightened threat? It was unconscionable.

Bertram’s gaze found hers. His jaw tightened and he looked away again. If it wasn’t enough she blamed herself for the events of the day, she had one of her most trusted team leaders blaming her too.

A hand on her back made her turn to stare into a pair of golden hawk eyes. “The Gordanes have a room for you to shower and change.” Bowen’s gaze skimmed over her half-bare chest, gentle as a caress.

The Gordanes were notorious for admiring strength in their women. Strength tempered by modesty. Geneieve noticed the Gordane soldiers’ gazes never quite met hers. The Gordanes’ looks came from the corners of their eyes, confining her to their periphery.

She nodded consent and allowed Bowen to escort her to the base guest quarters.

They walked down a long hallway painted a utilitarian gray. There were no frills or decorations other than the Gordanian flag hanging in a pressure-sealed case on the far wall.

As Geneieve and Bowen walked side by side, she wondered why he seemed so comfortable at the Gordane base. Bowen acted as if he owned the place and all the people working there. Though not a new attitude for him, it struck her as odd, since Didan was a closer ally to the U.S. than Gordane. But then, Bowen admitted he wasn’t exactly a welcome commodity with the Didan government.

“Here you go.” He stopped in front of the last room on the right side of the corridor. The door slid open when he placed his hand over the palm-recognition control.

She raised a brow at him. “Don’t think because my door is calibrated to your print that you can come in any time you want.”

“You have my word.” He ran a bent knuckle down her bare arm.

So many emotions—all of them conflicted—swirled around her heart and head. Granted Bowen’s word wasn’t worth much on the open market, but he had managed to save what was left of her team. He had gotten them to a place where they could await their next assignment in safety. Though she hated like hell to admit it, she owed him. He’d lost much this day as well. If he hadn’t come to her team’s rescue, most of his crew would still be alive. And that was the material point.

“I’m sorry, Bowen.”

“So am I.” Pain etched brackets around his mouth. “I tried to get to you sooner.”

Neither of them brought up what she knew they were both thinking. If she had listened to him about the Muloons instead of locking him in the cargo hold, the outcome would have been much different.

“You didn’t have to do it. Didn’t have to lose your men to try to save mine.”

That hawk-sharp gaze zeroed in on her mouth. He leaned forward, trapping her between the wall and his body. Heat speared her to the spot. Her hand crept up his chest, feeling his heartbeat under her palm. The hard drum of his heart sped up to match the quick beat of her own.

“Yes I did.” The words were a breath against her lips.

His mouth descended on hers. Six years melted away in the space of an instant.

Geneieve curled her hands into fists in the soft nap of his shirt. No man tasted as good as Bowen. None had even come close.

Gently, he pressed her mouth open and ran his tongue against hers. Emotion exploded in her like a shooting star. He overwhelmed her senses. Stripped her of all reality.

Dignity bade she put him in his place. To keep him at arm’s length. To deny him intimate access to her. But her body remembered all too vividly how it felt to make love with Bowen.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Valentine's Day is just hours away! Many of us look forward to the heartfelt cards, chocolates and perhaps those small boxes holding sparkly surprises. But I encourage you to take the time on this holiday to make someone feel special. I'm not talking about your significant other or lack thereof. Whether you are married, single, or dating, I'm willing to bet there is someone in your life you probably need to say, "I love you," to.

Those three small words hold so much power. I can remember the first time the man I loved said them to me. I could feel his sincerity, see the love in his eyes and I was moved and we were married. Yet, hearing my dad, mom, sister or any other loved one uttering those same words touched me just as much, just in a different place in my heart.

The point is each time someone says, "I love you," our hearts melt and our spirits rejoice in that moment the words float into our ears because deep down we all desire to love and be loved. Celebrate this Valentine's Day! Reach out and tell the special people in your life . . . "I love you."

Happy Valentine's Day!

Angela Nichelle

Blurb:

Safina Ralph is single on Valentine's Day. She's determined to have a good time in L.A. away from her home in Chicago with her friend, Lynn. The two of them have exclusive passes to Red, the hottest nightclub on Venice Beach. Just as the festive atmosphere begins to coax Safina into the party mood, she notices something . . . or someone shooting arrows into the crowd of unsuspecting partygoers below!

Chaos erupts as Safina races to stop the attack. When she confronts Kal, one of the club's sexy owners, Safina's sure he's the attacker despite his warm reassurances and her body's hot response to his touch. Consumed with overwhelming feelings of déjà vu and desire, Safina is relieved to get back home but she can't shake unsettling questions and Kal's handsome face from her mind.

After their encounter at Red, Kal tracks Safina down in Chicago with questions of his own. And the answers for them both could be the key to everything they've wished for, but will Safina accept the truth and can Kal trust his heart?

Excerpt:

Safina splashed cold water on her face several times before meeting her reflection in the decorative oval mirror hanging over the modern basin. Some curls had escaped from her fancy up-do, but that was the only sign to indicate she had experienced something out of the ordinary. Pulling a paper napkin off the marble counter, she patted the moisture from her face.

There was something about . . . she didn't even know his name. Safina shivered, remembering the awareness she’d experienced when his hard body had pressed so close to her own. Even in her dazed state, the scent of his cologne and the feel of his arms wrapped under her thighs had sent her heart racing.

Maybe Lynn was right; time to go back to the hotel. Taking a deep breath, she shut off the bathroom light and opened the door, instantly aware her friend was gone. "Where did Lynn go?"

Kallias downed the contents of his glass. "I told her I'd bring you back out after you had a few more moments to regroup. I'm Kal, by the way."

Safina looked around the beautifully decorated room. There were large mirrors on all the walls and an interesting collection of art pieces adorning the wooden shelves facing the desk Kal now rested against. Red was obviously doing very well.

"How do you feel now?"

Tearing her gaze off the exquisite ivory sculpture of a man and woman intertwined in an intimate embrace, Safina met Kal's dark brown eyes. "Better." Except for the fact she was now experiencing a serious case of déjà vu on top of everything else.

"Beautiful, isn't?" Kallias asked, coming to stand by her and the suggestive artwork.

Safina nodded, afraid to speak. Just his presence evoked a response from her body she didn't understand. Goosebumps prickled along her skin as she sucked in a deep breath. Unconsciously, she took a step away from Kallias, who turned from the statue to study her.

"Safina?"

Those lips, those dark eyes, his voice was so familiar. She couldn't breathe. She wanted to escape whatever was happening to her. She needed to escape before she rushed into his arms. "I-I'm gonna go. Thanks, Kal."

Safina turned and rushed for the door, letting out a yelp when Kallias stopped her with a sharp tug on her arm.

Kallias moved close, bringing his face a centimeter, maybe two, from hers. "Do I know you?"

His hand on her skin was more than she could bear. Pleasurable tingles raced from his warm touch up and down her bare arm. With wide eyes, Safina tried to yank free but he held fast. "Please—"

Kallias cut her off with a kiss. His lips melded with hers and Safina forgot about struggling and moaned, going limp in his arms. She kissed him back, enjoying the heat and passion she could taste as he stroked her tongue, remembering . . . remembering something. Finding a bit of strength, Safina wrenched away, breathing hard.

Kallias licked his bottom lip and appeared to be just as bemused as she was. Safina used his momentary confusion to break free of his grasp. Pivoting on the balls of her high-heeled shoes, she bolted for the door.

“A short delicious read and very very satisfying.”

BIG FLESH

He was fat. Not pudgy, but fat. Five-eight and about two-hundred thirty pounds, he smoked cigars, greased his black hair into a pompadour, and had a small redheaded girlfriend with a whiny voice she probably thought sounded inquisitive. When she tripped away merrily to work at nights, we curled up puppy-style in their bed and watched Batman the Animated Series and Venture Brothers and Futurama until, one tight November evening, he told me he loved me. And I, fragile and foolish as I was, accepted his love, and returned it.

The thing ended up exploding, but I don’t have to tell you that. My stint as the Other Womanwas my last, but one part of the affair stuck with me to this day. That thing is my love of big men.

Life opened up for me. Big men were on every corner, they came into my work every day, I saw the lovably oafish neighbors and husbands on TV as sudden sex symbols, dripping with luscious charm. You never saw them with their clothes off—that was reserved for comedic relief—but you suspected that what simmered beneath the surface of those button-downs and heavy sweaters was too sticky for normality to handle. Swathes of hair, tight pink nipples, taut-drawn bellies and broad, cushioned chests. The exterior, that vapid mask of stereotype, clicked into place to shield us from their raw sensuality.

While traveling in the circles of big men, I’ve found a lot of things. The first is a usual development of a higher personality: a faster wit, a stronger voice, a more omnivorous mind. This may be because, as fat boys, they get shit anyway…so what’s the harm in admitting that you love Journey? Another theory is that, as far the taller of the kind go, there’s a certain aspect of danger in confronting a big man…and in courting one. It tickles my biological funny bone to realize the big man on my arm is my lover, my partner, and my bodyguard, not that I’d need any from the list. And lastly, their interests tend to be more diverse and, dare I say it, more forgiving, than their slimmer counterparts.

In my book, Alpha, our protagonist Janey falls for the powerful, gentle, and chunky Seamus, a wolfman who runs a fractured pack in post-apocalyptic Manhattan. Janey herself is no shrinking violet, no limp-backed damsel: she commands a brigade of scooter soldiers against the hordes of infested undead. They share a series of interests that any sexy nerdgirl or -boy would relate to—comics, old movies, and sci-fi become their respite from the dangerous world outside—and also a string of sexual encounters that span from true-love-making to BDSM adventure.

Honestly, Seamus’ bigness doesn’t feature prominently in the story, but I won’t apologize for a hero who wears his hedonism in his belly. And Janey’s no airbrushed sprite herself: pierced and pocked and emotionally immature, she has a lot of growing to do herself, and a lot of kinky fantasies to explore.

I’ve heard it’s an intense and visceral story, both from men and women. I think it speaks some hidden truths about our current preferences, the turn of Third Wave feminism, that flesh is flesh, and no one’s perfect, but everyone’s beautiful. Or whatever you like. You’re the reader.

And I’m always up for suggestion.

Blurb: Janey Hyde is fighting to keep her people alive in a Manhattan ravaged by zombies. Seamus, the leader of a werewolf pack also on the island is doing the same. Will an alliance between them be the salvation of their tribes? Or is the intense attraction they feel for each other going to be their downfall? Exploring love, lust, war, and politics, ALPHA is the debut novel from writer Molly Maddox. Seamus's pack isn't ready to accept a human in their midst, and attracted to him as she is, Janey isn't sure she's ready to submit to an alpha male when it could undermine her authority with her own people. But there is more at stake than her pride and his principles, and only by working together will they find a future.

Bio: Molly Maddox is a graduate student in Denton, Texas. She is a lifelong fan of both sexiness and nerdiness and has been looking for a way to combine them since the sight of a slinky red-garbed Nyota Uhura crossed her eye as a child. Lately she writes, illustrates, and works a nine-to-five while a creepy ginger cat snoops over her shoulder.

Alpha is available as an original ebook from Circlet Press, available for sale at all major ebook retailers, including Barnes & Noble.com and the Amazon Kindle Store, and downloadable from circlet.com.

Thanks so much!

Moll

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My name is Mark Alders. I live in a house. This house has a street in front of it which is a good thing because if it didn't I wouldn't be able to drive down to the shop and purchase the chocolate I need on a daily basis *giggle* Seriously, I am a mild mannered post office worker by day and an erotic romance writer (mainly male/male) at night. Not much else to say other than, like everyone else, I have bills to pay, a mortgage and family that I love and drive me crazy all at the same time. Oh, and I have a dog, too! See? Average Joe...execpet when I get down and write...then I let my imagination go to places I never knew existed and my characters invade my mind.

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I have an Associates Degree in Nursing and work as a traveling nurse. Although, I miss my family and friends back in Missouri, I enjoy meeting new people and love to travel. Of course, I wouldn’t go anywhere without my wonderful daughter and two rotten dogs. Writing has always been a part of my life, but for many years, I thought it was only a hobby. Finally learning that I couldn’t live without writing my beloved stories, I decided to see where it would take me. Who knows where my next adventure will be? Either in nursing or writing, I will continue to look for new and fun places to explore.